


She Belongs in a Painting

by LovelyCreature



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Breakfast, F/M, Fluff, Morning After
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 07:42:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1680284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyCreature/pseuds/LovelyCreature
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jorah wakes up to the smell of bacon, and the sound of Dany singing. Nothing has been so sweet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	She Belongs in a Painting

Sun filtered between dusty blinds, gradually brightening on Jorah's face. He rolled over on his side, pulling the blanket up over his head. By doing so, he was reminded of his age. His shoulder, sore from where Dany rested her head all night. His thighs, his lower back... now all aching. It had felt so good then, using his body with hers. He was young and happy and alive. Now, just an old man stiff and tired.  

But the soreness faded as life around Jorah sharpened. 

He heard Dany's sweet voice raise to a melody, bringing a sleepy smile to his face. Then, as if at once, he recognized the smell of bacon, followed by eggs. He heard something being poured into a glass. Jorah buried his nose into Dany's pillow, and the aroma of food was temporarily blocked by the familiar smell of her. The smell of summer nights. Of wildflowers and rain. Hearing the approach of soft footsteps, as delicate and light as a cat's, Jorah lifted his head off the pillow.

"Are you awake?" she asked. 

He rolled on his side to look at her, trying to shrug off his sleepiness. He wondered what time it was. 

"Yes," he yawned. She smiled. And the way the light hit her, turning her fair skin ivory and her hair into a halo, made Jorah believe she belonged in a painting -not standing before him with a glass of orange juice.  He was frightened to reach out and touch her, fearing it would wake him from this dream. But this was not a mockery of his love. 

This was real. 

"I made breakfast." She sat on the edge of the couch beside him. A slender finger ran across his forehead, and through his thinning hair. He brought his head against her thigh, his beard scratching her smooth skin. 

"Are you hungry, my bear?" she asked quietly, a smile playing on her lips. 

"What time is it?"

"It's Saturday."

"I know."

"It's a bit after ten," she told him. "But there's no need to worry about the time. We don't have to go anywhere today. Or do anything."

Jorah looked up at her. She was wearing the flannel shirt he put on yesterday morning. He remembered how he had carefully rolled up the sleeves, watching himself in the mirror. He'd hoped to look handsome, at least to Dany, but the longer he preened the stupider he felt. But Dany, she wore it effortlessly. How strange, but how beautiful to see it on her! There were only two buttons in use, the rest hanging loose on her slim figure. 

"I didn't mean to wake you," she said suddenly, dragging her finger down his temple and along his jaw.

"You didn't," he lied. Dany leaned down, kissing him on the forehead. Her long hair fell over her shoulders, brushing against his chest. As Dany got to her feet, Jorah propped himself up on his elbows. He didn't feel the ache in his shoulder anymore. 

"I love you," he said. The words weren't feeling as rehearsed, as clumsy, as they used to. Dany paused, standing there and just looking at him. Really looking at him. She wanted to kiss him again, but instead of lips meeting skin they formed words. 

"I know you do." 

"Really, I do." Jorah waited, returning her smile, but the words he wanted to hear never came. Instead, Dany exited the room as swiftly as she entered. He heard her turn the radio on in the kitchen, and the toast pop from the toaster. The moment was gone, but in his heart it lingered. He could feel the weight of it in the pit of his stomach. 

_And I love you, Jorah._

_Another day_ , he told himself. But that's where the fear of uncertainty set in and festered. He didn't want to even think it, but the question had already proposed itself.  _But what if that day never comes, you old love-sick fool?  Worse yet, what if when she says them they're just as empty as that spot between your ears?_

Jorah sat up, trying to bat the thoughts away like they were just annoying gnats. But they kept buzzing around his head, as incessant and troublesome as the radio's static. Perhaps as a young man, they'd be easy feelings to ignore. But as somebody to know the pain and consequence of all the words not said, things were harder to shove aside. Still, that was all he could do.

"The food will get cold!" Dany called. 

Jorah closed his eyes. He thought about last night again. He remembered kissing Dany's thighs, his beard tickling her and making her giggle. He pictured her smile, the way she arched her back. The way her hand wrapped around his neck, drawing him so close he could feel her breath on his neck. He could hear her voice, her encouragement and moans.

Then, he stood up. Feeling uncomfortable naked, he fumbled for his undergarments. After slipping them on, he stumbled out of the living room and into the kitchen. Dany had a plate made up for him, piled high with bacon, toast and scrambled eggs. The bacon looked burnt, as did the toast. Hearing him enter, she glanced over her shoulder.

"I put the orange juice away," she said. "I didn't know what you wanted to drink." 

_One moment at a time._

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Jorah/Dany is hard for me to write, but I really like them as a pairing so I tried. Dedicated to Carly. I hope I did okay.


End file.
